


Against The Wall

by alba17



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Anonymous Sex, M/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a long day and Danny needs to let off some steam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> For h50kinkmeme prompt: Danny/anyone, anonymity; He just wants to be fucked. He doesn't want to know the person. Thanks to tailoredshirt for the beta.

The guy quirks a smile at him, tips his head toward the john. Okay, so he’s tall, dark and handsome like some other people he knows, so what? It’s been a long day, full of hellishly bright sun, some scumbag beating the crap out of a girl who owed him money and just happened to be the crucial witness in a drug cartel case, and who has to save the day by throwing a fucking grenade through the window?

Paperwork up the wazoo. Jesus Christ.

Fuck it. He doesn’t even know how he ended up in here. Chin pointed out the place a couple of weeks ago when they were looking for a suspect, and Danny filed it away for future reference without any real plan to return.

But here he is. Now he’s got a whole mental list of these places, a fact that he carefully avoids thinking about. It’s just there, at the back of his mind, to be pulled out when he needs it. Like today.

The tall guy is leaning against the wall now, showing off his assets, flexing his arms enough to bring out their heavy musculature. Danny takes a moment to eye him, notices that, yeah, he’s got tattoos too. He sighs and slides off the barstool, feeling the itch crawling up his spine, the craving too strong to ignore any more. The guy watches him, gaze flickering over him, up and down, and ending with a lopsided grin of approval as he pushes himself off the wall with a foot.

Danny stops just inside his personal space, too close for a normal conversation between strangers. He can smell him, cologne underlain with a tang of sweat, and his senses ratchet up into high gear just from that. He can feel his cock swelling against his underpants, the fabric tightening at his crotch. Need to get this done.

He scans the guy’s form, the tight t-shirt, the leg-gripping jeans - _he could have a knife strapped there_ \- and he likes it. He likes it a lot.

“Hey.” He doesn’t really want to talk, hard to believe, but yeah. He just wants to get off and fast. The less he knows about the guy, the better. The bar pulses with the beat of Lady Gaga and somebody laughs, loud and edgy, cutting through the ambient noise. But mostly Danny hears the rush of his own blood in his ears.

“Hey.” The guy looks at him, then glances away, eyes skittering, like he’s suddenly nervous now that Danny’s right in front of him.

Licking his lips, Danny nods, then they head toward the bathroom. The knife-edge of excitement sharpens with every step and his spine tingles with the rush of the forbidden, his cock hardening so it’s almost hard to walk.

Suddenly he’s being shoved up against the wall of the bathroom, his head snapping back onto the slick, cool tile, and the guy’s knee is pressing between his legs, against his erection, and it all comes slamming together, the sharply unpleasant odor, the slippery floor, the buzz of drinkers out in the bar, the man’s fingertips slipping warm against the skin of his belly as he scrambles to undo his fly, and he’s rock hard, bucking his hips up against the guy’s leg, humping him like a dog.

He grabs a handful of dark brown hair – too long – as the guy whips open his zipper, pulls down his underpants and grips his cock with hungry fingers that waste no time working it up and down. God, it feels good; he has to close his eyes at the wave of pleasure, sparks in the darkness.

He’s desperate to see the other guy’s cock, feel its bulk in his hand, and the slip-side of precome as it seeps from the tip. But before he can do anything more than reach for the guy’s belt, the guy lunges at Danny for a kiss, hard and demanding, pressing Danny into the wall, his shoulder blades almost painfully crushed against the unyielding surface. The kiss is almost a bite, no softness to it at all, and that’s fine with Danny. No need to get comfortable here. He can feel the roughness of the guy’s stubble rubbing against his face and he forces away the image of Steve’s unshaven jaw and his dick dragging over its surface.

This is taking too long - he pulls his face away to get at the guy’s cock, still hidden in his jeans. He scrabbles at the fly, pops the button and pulls down the zipper. When he finally gets his hand on it, Danny’s mouth goes dry and he finds himself leaning in to the guy to get closer, his hand wandering over the silk-smooth tautness, reaching down into his jeans to tug at his balls, flick a finger to tease at the soft skin behind.

“Fuck, yeah,” the guy groans, as he tries to pull Danny back in for a kiss. Danny’s having no more of that and he pulls his head back, avoiding the man’s face. He strips the guy’s length with his hand to make up for it, circling his thumb over the head to spread out the pre-come that’s flowing freely now, give it some ease. It’s slick, viscous under his fingers as his fingers push and slide, squeeze. Oh yeah. They’re both panting now, small huffs of breath shared in the close heated air between them.

Danny shoves his dick against the other guy’s and then wraps his hand around both together.

“That’s it, man. Love it,” the guy murmurs. He adds his hand, gripping Danny’s and adding pressure to the mix. It’s getting wet and sloppy with both their cocks thrusting together, and jesus, yes, that’s it. There’s a voice right outside the door; somebody could come in any moment, and Danny can feel it building, feel the wavering edges of energy collecting in his groin, up his spine, down to the soles of his feet. Just for an instant, it’s Steve here in front of him, neck thrust back, tendons extended, mouth open, and he forgets himself. It’s too late, he comes in a rush, hot and sticky all over their joined hands.

“Shit,” he whispers, quivering, knees weak.

The other guy gasps his own release, face grimacing, bracing an arm on the wall behind Danny. His breath gusts moistly on the side of Danny’s head.

No one’s come in; they’re still alone, just the sound of their chests heaving, semen seeping down into their clothes. Danny can feel it, chilly now as it cools on his skin, clammy and unpleasant. The bathroom’s back in focus, the scratched up black metal stall doors, the dingy floor tiles, trash collecting in the corners, and the smell, jesus christ, the smell.

The first wave of regret laps at his consciousness and he’s got to get out of here before he drowns in it. By mistake, his eye catches the other guy’s as they try to clean up and it’s like a punch in the gut. He doesn’t want to know, he doesn’t want to know. He’s just a body, just a guy, somebody who was there at the right place and the right time. Nobody.

“See you around,” he says out of some bizarre sense of propriety. The other guy doesn’t look at him, just nods and says, “yeah, thanks,” while buckling his belt. As they go toward the door, the guy tucks a business card in Danny’s back pocket, doesn’t say anything. Okay, but no.

Through the bar, towards the door, almost there, Danny’s eyes scan the room out of habit, paranoia gripping him. He just isn’t quite used to this yet. And honestly? If he ever does get used to it? Just shoot him now, because he knows this isn’t the answer, this isn’t a healthy way to deal with things, but fuck. He’s got to get through every day, every damn day with Commander Sexy McGarrett in his face, whipping his shirt off when he least expects it, without any warning, giving him those _looks_ , man the looks are fucking killing him.

He doesn’t know what it means, if it means anything, and the man’s his partner, he just doesn’t even want to go there. He doesn’t know what to do with this, all these feelings. He can’t bring himself to say anything, and it’s killing him.

In the meantime, there’s this.


End file.
